Tears of the Flame
by lara-sanders
Summary: Ginny Weasley is sick of dating. Totally over it. From now on, casual trysts should do her just fine. That is, until it turns into something more. Throw in an old flame and things will really start to heat up. GH, GD
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own it. Any of it.

Summary: Ginny Weasley is sick of dating. Totally over it. From now on, casual trysts should do her just fine. That is, until it turns into something more. Throw in an old flame and things will really start to heat up. G/H, G/D

**Tears of the Flame**

1

Ginny Weasley scanned her front garden nervously as she peered out from behind her heavy curtains. '_Bloody reporters.'_ she thought with annoyance, trying to determine if the small cat roaming innocently on her fence _really_ was an innocent animal, and not another sneaky photographer trying to get a picture of her tear-streaked face. After finally determining that she was safe, for the time being at least, she let out a small sigh and let herself drop onto the overstuffed couch in the middle of the room.

'_Success really does have its shortcomings,'_ she thought bitterly, massaging her temples in a desperate bid to stop the steady pounding of the headache that was beginning to form, and slowly reliving the steps which had taken her to this point.

Having graduated from Hogwarts the year after the war's end and with a seemingly endless number of prospects available to her, yet very little direction, she had elected to take the year off, much to the disappointment of her mother. 'You could do anything!' she had pleaded desperately. 'We are at peace again, and the opportunities we once thought to be frivolous desires are available to you once more!'

Indeed, her mother had a point. Having finally been relieved of his burden the year before, Harry Potter found he no longer had the same desire to chase the bad guys as had once been expected of him. He chose instead to enter the field of professional quidditch, boosting the success of the ailing Chudley Cannons team immensely, much to Ron's pleasure.

Not so much hers, of course.

Seeing that he was in absolutely no fit state to engage in a relationship following the tireless battles that had occurred, Ginny had accepted Harry's pleas to let him just clear his head for a while and had watched with a broken heart as he had left for three months on tour during her seventh year.

Three months, which gradually melted into six, seven, eight; and when he hadn't returned by the end of the year, despite repeated promises, Ginny knew that he wasn't coming back to her.

Accepting this with a heavy heart, she had fled to France only two weeks into the summer to stay with Bill and Fleur who had just bought a tiny little house nestled deep in the French countryside, about half an hour out of Paris.

Having gotten over her initial dislike of the French girl who had been the first in a long line to join the Weasley clan officially, Ginny had found that, once back in her own country and not having to adapt to different circumstances, Fleur was actually quite pleasant to be around. Bill was away often; having to commute between the French division of Gringotts, which he had transferred to, and the Egyptian division, which still required his talents and expertise. As such, Fleur was often left on her own, and appreciated the entertaining company of her fiery sister-in-law. Having quickly established upon Ginny's arrival that the younger girl was suffering from severe heartbreak, she had taken it upon herself to lift her spirits, and the two had formed a very close bond.

It was during one of their frequent shopping trips in Paris that Ginny had been presented with a rare opportunity that had brought her to where she was today.

Though the Weasleys had received much in compensation from the ministry at the war's end, the family was very aware of the twenty odd years of scrimping and saving that had come before, and were reluctant to indulge themselves too often. Fleur however, had come from a very prominent and rich French family, and as such, was a regular in some of the more luxury brands of the French capital. Out of respect for her husband, she had attempted to curb her extravagant purchases, but every so often, she simply couldn't help herself. Men were awestruck by her, and she was awestruck by a beautiful gown.

On this particular day, Ginny and Fleur had been strolling casually down the street, occasionally pausing to peer into the glass fronted shops that lined the road. All of a sudden, Fleur had stopped so suddenly that Ginny, whose arm had been linked with hers, was pulled back violently.

"Fleur! What–" Ginny had begun, but paused when Fleur simply silenced her with a wave of her hand.

"Is zat not ze most beautiful gown you 'ave ever seen?" she asked, and Ginny followed her gaze to a tiny boutique tucked into a small side street, its window barely visible from where they stood. In front of the glass display stood a mannequin wearing an elegant evening gown. Made of an emerald green silk, and delicately embroidered with what looked to be tiny crystals, Ginny had never seen anything so amazing in her life.

"You must try it on," Fleur commanded, dragging Ginny into the shop. When Ginny had emerged from the change-room, she had felt like a princess; beautiful, elegant and graceful.

"Ginny…" Fleur began, but faltered. "You – you look –"

"Absolutely stunning," a new voice chimed in, causing both Ginny and Fleur to turn to face the new arrival. Dressed in a sharp black suit, and with heels at least five inches high, the strange figure smiled and extended her hand, a small business card between two of her perfectly manicured fingers.

"Amber Jones, of Jones Modeling Agency. Call me."

Having never considered herself to be particularly beautiful, Ginny had been surprised to say the least. 'But,' she had thought, 'here I am in Paris for a year with nothing better to do. Why not?

Fleur had encouraged her whole-heartedly, though Mrs. Weasley had been shocked at first. Wizarding robes were not particularly distinguishable from each other and as such there was little reason to be parading them in front of potential buyers. The concept of modeling was practically foreign to the whole Weasley clan and, as Ron put it, "Why would we want out little sister acting like a mobile coat-hanger?"

When they had seen her for the first time, however, gliding down the catwalk in an elegant, yet starkly plain black dress, they were speechless. It clung to her upper half then flowed gently down to her ankles with a slit up her thigh. Her red hair had been swept up and pinned back with an antique gold clip. She trailed a beautiful gold scarf behind her and the total effect, combined with her creamy, pale skin and long, limber legs, had left the audience absolutely stunned.

She had been in hot demand from then on, and spent the next few years traveling around the globe. Despite the muggle nature of her occupation, the wizarding world had somehow become equally entranced by her and as such, she was often featured in the Daily Prophet, sashaying down the red-carpet in London or Milan.

It was during one of her interviews with Witch Weekly, as they eagerly probed her for details about the muggle fashions that Ginny realized the gaping hole in the wizarding world. Fashion, as such, had largely been reduced to robes. Work robes, dress robes, cloaks. It was nothing like the muggle world where a dress could take many shapes and forms, you could wear shorts, pants, three-quarters, mini-skirts, long skirts – the possibilities were endless.

What if someone had decided to take muggle clothing and apply wizarding characteristics?

Four years after she started, Ginny Weasley announced to the world (well, the wizarding world at least) that she was retiring from modeling to start her own fashion label. Based in London so she could be closer to her family and called 'Princess', the label had been a huge success from the word go. Everything from dresses with unslippable straps and pants which altered themselves every time the wearer put them on to skyscraper heels which felt like flats and barely-there dresses which kept the wearer warm in all conditions were snapped up eagerly by female wizards of all ages, desperate to be a part of this new, muggle craze.

Four years on from then and Ginny had become one of the most successful women in London. At 24, her life seemed perfect, she had a loving, supportive family behind her, and she was in control of her own business, which looked like it would soon turn into a whole empire, with the possibilities of perfumes, accessories and even a book deal in the works. Getting older had only matured her looks and made her seem even more beautiful and she was constantly fawned upon by men everywhere.

However, with fame comes the media, and, since the defeat of Voldemort, Ginny was the new tabloid fodder. Every break-up, make-up and date was carefully noted and scrutinized. Every male found to be within a one hundred metre radius of her was seen as a potential love interest, every female was a possible cat fight. It was as if her private life had ceased to exist and she had become public property. Mrs. Bentley from three houses down knew about her every move from Witch Weekly; Mr. Peakes across the road perused the happenings of her life from the graffitied walls at the apparition centre and reporters following her had simply become a part of her life.

Which is what brought her to be here, lying on her couch, massaging her temples and trying to register the fact that, once again, the media had something new to report about her life. She had broken up with Ben Gleeson, an up-and-coming young official at the Ministry and her boyfriend of five months – her third break up in the past year.

Slowly closing her eyes as the constant massaging caused the heavy thumping to gradually cease, Ginny began to consider heading over to Ron and Hermione's house for some old-fashioned girly chat.

Just as this thought entered her mind, however, she saw a figure pop up in the crack between her curtains and a myriad of flashes came her way. Groaning, Ginny threw the cushion she had been leaning on against the window and flopped back down to lie flat on the couch, burying her face with her hands.

God fame _sucked_.

* * *

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	2. Chapter 2

**Tears of the Flame**

2

When you looked at it objectively, five months was actually a rather long time for Ginny to be in a relationship. In fact, it was her second longest relationship to date.

It wasn't that there was something horribly wrong about Ben, or that he treated her badly. No, it was more the painful awareness Ginny held in her heart that she'd never quite gotten over one Harry Potter.

After the disastrous events of her fifth year resulting in the death of one of the most powerful wizards ever known to wizard-kind, it seemed that fate really had it in for them and things only got worse. More and more prominent witches and wizards were murdered or captured: Minerva McGonagall, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Amos Diggory. Harry treated each death as his own fault and withdrew into himself even more than ever, refusing to show any sense of emotion and distancing himself from loved ones. He remained strong on his determination to keep those close to him safe and despite Ginny's pleas, refused to become involved in any sort of relationship until the war's end. He allowed only Ron and Hermione to see him, and together the three traveled the world looking for the remaining horcruxes and systematically destroying them.

When the final battle with Voldemort was played out, Harry stood tall, his eyes hard, and his right hand clenching his wand so tightly he was sure it would break. Despite the burning pain emanating from his scar, he lifted his head high and stared his nemesis right in the eye. Later, Harry would recall how the world seemed to disappear and all he could see and hear were Voldemort's victims – screaming, pleading and begging for mercy. It took every ounce of his strength to fight the now horcrux-less, but still powerful creature who had wreaked so much havoc upon the wizarding world.

When Ginny had crept from the burrow to sneak into Harry's hospital room much, much later that night, she had simply held his hand as he wept tears of relief, exhaustion, and pain. "I don't remember how to feel anymore," he had whispered, his voice hoarse. "It's like I'm not even human anymore. I just _am_."

Ginny had wept too as she clung desperately to him. "I can help you Harry. I'm here for you. I'll always be here for you."

Harry had lifted their entwined fingers and brought them gently to his lips

"Let me find myself again," he pleaded tears choking his words. Let me become who I once was. I can't do it here, not with the press following my every move and recording my every action. It's suffocating me. I need time out, away from it all. I promise I'll be back for you."

And so Ginny had done just that. Watched despairingly as he had accepted the seekers position with the Chudley Cannons and headed off for places unknown to participate in the rejuvenated team's secret, three-month training program.

Ginny had waited as the days past and weeks turned into months. Three days before the program's supposed end, a letter had arrived from Harry, fifteen inches long; apologizing profusely with the news that he was needed for a few more weeks. Another month passed; another letter. The months had melted into each other and Ginny's hopes of Harry's promised return began to diminish as she continued to receive the same excuses – "Trainings really starting to get intense, if I leave now I'll miss too much," "Games start soon, everything's really heating up," "It's not that I don't want to come back, but coach says its not the right time."

Eventually, she'd noticed the envelopes becoming lighter, and, ten and a half months after Harry had first left, she'd received her fifteenth excuse, written on a single sheet of parchment, barely five inches long. She'd known then that he was never coming back.

The day she'd left the Burrow to travel to France, Ginny had never felt more alone. Harry hadn't dumped her as such; it was simply more that he hadn't really bothered with her at all. His reaction to the news that she was going away had been apathetic at best. "Oh really? That sounds nice."

Even after she'd fled to Paris though, she'd harbored illusions of Harry appearing on the doorstep, apologizing and professing his undying love for her. It had taken the cold, but well-meant words from Fleur: "Honey, if 'e was going to come, 'e would 'ave by now," to shake her back into reality. Three weeks later, she had met Amber Jones, and the night before her first big assignment, she'd carefully collected all the letters he had ever sent her and systematically burned them all.

It hadn't worked to purge him from her life, however, and from that day on, despite repeated attempts at new relationships, Ginny simply couldn't get one to last. Nick Greene had been sweet, but a little too passive; Paul Jennat had been loud and boisterous, but much too headstrong. Andy Michaels made no time for her, William Hamilton made _too_ much time, and the list went on. Businessmen, actors, labourers, athletes, wizards or muggles; no matter who they were, Ginny could find fault with them all.

As she sat with Hermione on her and Ron's creaky back porch which faced onto a field of wildflowers and was encased by a huge brick fence, to maintain their privacy, Ginny couldn't help but feel overwhelmingly jealous of the life the two now led. Having finally admitted after Dumbledore's death that they had feelings for each other, they had become absolutely inseparable and, almost ten years on, they were now expecting their second child.

"It's ridiculous," Ginny ranted, "just how much of an interest everyone has in my life. I mean, you'd think people would have better things to do than read about my love-life in every magazine they pick up."

"It's the life that comes with fame Ginny, you know that," Hermione told her gently. "After all, you've seen what effect it can have on…other people."

Both women paused, the unspoken message of Hermione's words weighing heavily on them

"You can say his name you know," Ginny said finally, taking a sip from her tea while resolutely ignoring Hermione's probing gaze. "It's not like I care anymore."

"Ginny – are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure Hermione," Ginny replied crossly, placing her tea back down with a loud thunk. "I've moved on haven't I?"

"Yes…but here you are, having just broken up with your boyfriend, and you hardly seem at all upset."

"Oh, so just because I'm not upset, that automatically means I'm in love with Harry does it?"

"You don't understand, that's not what I'm trying to–"

"Then what exactly _are_ you trying to say?" Ginny demanded angrily.

"Ginny," Hermione began with a sigh, "I'm not trying to insinuate anything, not at all. It's just…I mean, your relationship with Ben was hardly ideal, you barely ever saw each other and you were constantly telling me how there was really nothing between you. Maybe you should take a break from relationships for a while I mean, you've spent almost the last eight years constantly jumping from guy to guy, maybe its time for some 'you time'."

Ginny didn't say anything for a long while, and Hermione wondered nervously if maybe she had gone too far. All the Weasley's had long worried over Ginny's serial dating, but none had ever said anything to her for fear of incurring her wrath.

The seconds seem to stretch into hours, as Hermione watched Ginny stare down at her hands, clasped together in her lap. Finally, after what seemed an age, she looked up.

"Maybe you're right." It was a barely audible whisper, but Hermione took Ginny's small concession as a sign of encouragement and decided to push a little further.

"I think – I think perhaps you should try being on your own for a while."

There was another silence which Hermione endured with baited breath before Ginny began to speak.

"I've always had a guy around. I don't know why, but I just, I just don't feel complete as a person without someone to share dinner with, someone to cuddle up with at night or someone to spend Sunday afternoons with. I'm so used to being a part of a couple that I've even started to introduce myself as Ginny Weasley, blah blah's girlfriend," Ginny gave a shrill laugh and shook her head, her voice getting higher as she began to speak with more agitation. "I mean, how ridiculous is that? To only ever see myself as an extension of someone else? It's like I don't even care _who_ it is, as long as there _is_ someone there, do you know what I mean?"

Hermione nodded, but didn't speak, not wanting to stop Ginny from getting this all off her chest.

"And as if the guys have any deep feelings about me anyway! Half of them are probably just trying to cash in on my fame, get their pictures in the social pages. Jerry Ashfield could never understand why I got upset over being stalked by photographers. Neither did James Martin or Peter Brinsky. And I just let these guys use me because of my ridiculous insecurities about being alone! I mean for gods sake Hermione! I've been with more guys than Ron's made attempts on Malfoy's life during Hogwarts!"

At this, Hermione let out a small giggle, but stopped when she saw Ginny's determined face.

"That's it. I'm done. I'm not doing relationships. I'm not doing movie dates or picnics in the park, no more guys at family dinners, or having to put down the toilet seat. From now on, _no_ dating!"

* * *

The last model glided gracefully down the catwalk to thunderous applause. She paused at the end and raised her chin slightly, lifting one of her eyebrows to match her sultry smile before performing a perfect pirouette, allowing the audience to appreciate the full beauty of her evening dress – an amazing chiffon creation with plunging neckline and tiers of material cascading from the waistline, specially designed with Ginny's signature non-slip, heat-proof and cold-proof spells. 

As the model slid back down the runway, Belinda Fanning, Witch Weekly's hated but all-powerful editor-in-chief took to the stage and presented the audience with a wide, toothy smile – once panned by a rival newspaper as nothing more than a teeth-baring grimace.

"Ladies and Gentlemen!" she boomed, her authoritative voice reaching every crevice of the hall in which they sat, "It has been my pleasure tonight to host the 3rd annual Princess Fashion Show! I hope you have all enjoyed yourself immensely! And I now have the great privilege in inviting up the genius creator of Princess herself, Miss Ginny Weasley!"

Ginny rose gracefully from her chair in one languid movement and moved towards the stage with the elegance and poise that had stayed with her after her four year modeling stint. She accepted the stage graciously from Belinda, smiling politely and hiding the fact that she hated this woman with a passion. After all, Belinda Fanning was the woman who had single-handedly ensured that every one of Ginny's personal misfortunes were chronicled on double page spreads, front cover if she could manage it, and who Ginny only associated with because her support of Princess had led to a triple in sales over the past few years.

Now accustomed to such events, Ginny thanked the audience courteously for their appearance at the show and asked that they please take a complementary piece from Princess' new accessories range home to enjoy. She then allowed herself to be cornered by various members of the press, answering their questions about her range with ease and skillfully deflecting from any questions about her personal life before excusing herself to join her personal assistant Anne on the other side of the room.

"Well, that went well," Anne said, pushing her thin, wire-framed glasses up her nose and consulting a small diary. "And it's all done for another six months. Next up is some meetings with the accounts department to ensure turnover is going well, and then we can start manufacturing next season's stock. But that's not till next week," she added quickly, noting Ginny's stifled yawn. "Tonight you go home and rest."

Ginny couldn't agree more. The beginning of a new season was always the busiest time for Ginny, when she had to design a completely new range and be available for all promotional events which included parties, dances, shows and informal lunches with important members of the wizarding community in order to convince them to wear her designs. It had also been three months since her 'talk' with Hermione and Ginny had immersed herself in activities she had long forgotten about. She'd started reading, for instance, usually going through a book a week, enjoying the chance to become absorbed in another's life, to read of their strengths and weaknesses, their falls from grace and the hard path back. It somehow made her life seem that much more normal. As well, she had taken to having lunch with her mother once a week, much to Molly's pleasure and had regained contact with school friends she had long ignored while sitting at home cooking dinner for her boyfriend. All in all, she had to think that this 'no dating' rule was going quite well for her.

She was humming happily to herself as she packed her bag and imagined herself ensconced in the warm comfort of her bed with her newest novel by her favourite wizarding author, Joely Kaye Rowe for company when Lenny Brinks, her head of advertising ran up to her.

"Ginny! Thank god you're still here! I've got a guy for you to meet, he's one of the richest men in England, owns about 80 of advertising space on the wizarding wireless and he wants to talk to you about some possible ad campaigns!"

Ginny sighed; her hopes for an early evening dashed, but straightened her back and adjusted her outfit slightly. Opportunities like this didn't come often, and she wasn't about to turn it down. If talking to some old coot about her line would bring in more advertising, then Joely Kaye would just have to wait. "Lead me to him," she instructed Lenny, who hurriedly shepherded her across the room.

"What's the old guy's name, anyway?" she asked, mentally rehearsing her speech on the great benefits of non-stick heels.

"His name," came a cool voice, causing her stop in her tracks, "is Draco Malfoy."

* * *

Next: More Malfoy…

Thanks for reading! Please be an absolute angel and review! And thank you HEAPS to those who reviewed the first chapter! The beginning of this story is all a bit of background information, which I know can be a bit tedious, but I promise the story will be getting more underway in the next few chapters!


	3. Chapter 3

**Tears of the Flame**

3

"His name," came a cool voice, causing her stop in her tracks, "is Draco Malfoy."

One thought popped into Ginny's mind as she heard those words.

Oh _shit_.

It was, she supposed, like the feeling you get when you're knocked off your broom in quidditch and are heading towards the ground at breakneck speed and you know it's really, _really_ going to hurt when you hit, but there's nothing you can do about it. A hundred times worse though, because this was _Draco Malfoy_ and he was standing right in front of her, his customary smirk in place.

And he looked _good_.

His white-blond hair, so often slicked back at school, had been allowed to sit freely, so that it fell just above his ears in a relaxed, tousled manner that contrasted almost endearingly to the sharp, slick manner in which he presented himself. He seemed to have grown in to his features with age, the sharp angles of his face seeming to be not nearly as hard as they had been on his seventeen year old self. His skin was still flawlessly pale, and his eyes remained the same piercing silver orbs they had always been, mysterious, captivating, and with the ability to make a hundred women fall at his feet. He was dressed sharply in a crisp black suit, his expensive velvet dress robes thrown casually over the top.

After Dumbledore's death, no one had seen or heard from either Snape or Malfoy until both reappeared on the night of the final battle, leading Voldemort's closest circle of death eaters right into the Order's hands and proceeding to turn against them. In the death eater trials that followed, Alastor Moody of all people stood up as a witness to give evidence of their allegiance to the order and their status as double agents. Moody had ignored the look of shock on members of the order's faces and had proceeded to explain how Dumbledore had kept a secure record of his dealings with Snape in the form of his pensieve. This had been delivered to Moody the day after Dumbledore's funeral by Fawkes and, after carefully studying its contents, he had been able to understand the full extent of Dumbledore's plans for defeating Voldemort and had contacted Snape at the hiding place which had been indicated in the pensieve. Both Snape and Malfoy had been integral to the order's triumph ever since he had argued, without detailing too many of their activities, and should both be released with a full pardon. Moody's influence had, at this point, become so powerful after his tremendous efforts in the fight against Voldemort, that the jury had taken his words to heart and done exactly as he had asked

Since then, Malfoy had been working hard to make his name profitable once more. Lucius Malfoy had been killed a few months after Dumbledore's death and Narcissa had died soon after. Despite their obvious allegiance with Voldemort, many of their assets had been accumulated through legal means, or at least, no one was willing to step forward and provide evidence to suggest otherwise. As such, their property had remained in their name and Draco, being the sole heir, had inherited Malfoy Manor and the businesses in which his father had invested the year after the wars end. His consummate business skills had seen his influence extend across many spheres of the wizarding world and after eight years at the helm of the Malfoy Empire, he had tripled his father's fortune and carved his name firmly into his family's history.

Yet, it wasn't just Malfoy's brilliant and shrewd instincts when it came to money which raised his profile. Snape and Draco's trials had been front page news during the post-war period, and their eventual release had gone quite someway to restore the tarnished Malfoy image and the negative connotations associated with the name. Overnight, Draco had become immortalized as a brave young soul who had escaped his evil parents influence to eventually help good triumph over evil and bring down one of the greatest monsters known to wizard kind. His fame had reached heights almost as great as Harry's but that is where the similarities had ended. Unlike Harry's modest acknowledgment that perhaps he had done a little to help defeat Voldemort and his great dislike of the press, Draco had used every opportunity to capitalize on his newfound fame. He had endeared himself to the press by gladly holding huge press conferences followed by elaborate parties where food and firewhisky had flowed freely. As a result, both the Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly portrayed him as the ultimate bachelor, and he was constantly inundated with beautiful women and never short of a date. It was a well-known fact that Belinda Fanning absolutely adored him and never once let a bad word about him go to print. That fact alone was enough to infuriate Ginny.

Taking a deep breath and reminding herself that she was now as rich and well-renowned as he, Ginny straightened her back and lifted her eyes to meet his with a steady resolve.

"Mr. Malfoy," she said sweetly. "What a pleasure to meet you."

His cool eyes surveyed her slowly for a moment, making her feel oddly uncomfortable. Slowly, he reached out to take her hand in his and without breaking eye contact, lifted it up and pressed it gently to his lips. The brief contact stirred something in Ginny which she would really prefer not to think about and despite her best attempts; she could not resist a small shiver. If possible, this only served to make Malfoy's smirk even more smug.

"Miss Weasley."

His voice was very deep and very refined, the kind Ginny had seen in the classic muggle romance videos she and Hermione had once spent a weekend watching. As he let go of her hand, Ginny had to resist the urge to take a step backwards. An astute business woman herself after her years of running Princess, Ginny knew there was one cardinal rule – never let the other person know or think that they have the upper hand.

In this case of course, even a flobberworm could have been able to see that she was failing miserably.

Trying desperately to regain any last vestige of composure that she possessed, Ginny ignored the enticing scent of Malfoy's cologne and the slight gleam of triumph in his eyes which suggested he knew he was getting to her and launched straight into a speech on the company's financial profile and the revenue they had set aside for advertising purposes. Malfoy listened patiently for about two minutes, as if to indulge her, before interrupting with a wave of his hand.

"Now, now Miss Weasley," he chided slightly mockingly, as if talking to a small child. "A party as fine as this is hardly appropriate for such tedious negotiations. I suggest we do it properly. Over dinner perhaps?" He nodded towards Anne, who had followed Ginny over and asked, "Next Monday perhaps? Seven o'clock?" Amy shuffled quickly through a small diary she held before replying with a curt nod and scribbling the date in.

Seemingly rather pleased with himself, Malfoy turned back to Ginny, who had stood slightly dumbfounded during the exchange. "It's settled then. I'll have my assistant call yours with the details."

He took her hand and brought it slowly to his lips once more.

"Until then," he said softly, turning on his heel, before turning back quickly. "Oh, and Weasley, do me a favour and wear one of your gorgeous gowns will you? I'm sure seeing some of your wears on a figure as stunning as yours will greatly aid my understanding of your company." He winked rakishly at her before moving back and disappearing into the crowd.

Ginny, seemingly puzzled by the turn of events watched his retreating back for a moment before turning back to Anne.

"What the hell just happened?"

…

"I simply don't understand the need for all these ridiculous measures!" Ginny ranted to Anne as she sat in her office watching a bottle of Madam Rosmerta's finest elderflower wine.

Anne shrugged and patted Ginny's shoulder reassuringly. "I'm sure he has his reasons," she soothed for what must have been the seventy-second time that day. "He is a very prominent wizard after all. He probably doesn't want the press following him around all the time."

"Maybe…" Ginny consented slightly bitterly. "But I still don't like that he's taking charge in all of this. And telling me how to dress! Who does he think he is?"

Anne replied with a half-hearted "Mmm…" while absentmindedly continuing to pat Ginny's shoulder sympathetically.

Ginny had been on edge all week, ever since Malfoy had come in smoothly and orchestrated the meeting like he was in complete control of the situation. He was, of course, and it irked Ginny to no end that she had let him assume such a position. Anne had had to deal with the brunt of Ginny's frustration, listening patiently while she agonized over where he would be taking her and what on earth he was trying to achieve. Business such as this were usually dealt with by more subordinate members of the company, and all Ginny was usually required to do was exchange mere pleasantries with the head of the other company, perhaps five minutes of conversation, an act which was more for show, than to serve any real purpose. Why Malfoy insisted on dragging this charade of small-talk into dinner was beyond Ginny, and she had spent the last seven days expressing just that.

Ginny was about to launch into another full-on rant when the wine bottle on her desk began to glow.

"He's late," Ginny muttered. "It's 7:03."

Anne rolled her eyes and stood up. "Come on," she said, taking Ginny's hand and pulling her up. "Time to get this thing done."

Ginny sighed, but allowed herself to be pulled over to the desk. "Now," Anne instructed, "Malfoy's assistant said that all you had to do was touch the portkey and everything will waiting for you on your arrival."

"And he didn't say where I was being taken to?" Ginny asked again for the hundredth time.

Anne let out an exasperated sigh. "Ginny, just touch the stupid portkey."

Turning to stick her tongue out at her assistant in a childish manner, Ginny reluctantly placed her hand on the bottle and felt the inevitable tug behind her navel before the bland beige walls of her office disappeared.

She landed with a slight thump, but just managed to keep her balance by grabbing onto the first thing she could reach, which turned out to be the mantle of one of the finest fireplaces she had ever seen. The whole room, in fact, spoke of understated elegance and class, from the marble finishing to the thick, wine-red drapes that stretched along one side of the room. Looking around in amazement, Ginny felt utterly relieved at her choice of clothing, a midnight blue, strapless number made of the finest silk which fit snugly to her upper half, then flowed out gently from the waist, stopping just above her knees to reveal her long, slender legs. Her hair, usually pulled back nearly in a demure chignon while she was working, had been allowed to flow freely, the gentle waves brushing over her shoulders and finishing halfway down her back.

Ginny was surveying the scene around her with admiration, wondering how on earth she had managed to miss dining at such a fine establishment, when the soft sound of footsteps caused her to turn towards the ornately carved wooden doors.

Draco Malfoy entered the room slowly, as if enjoying the chance to make an impressionable entrance, and Ginny had the brief thought that if she'd though he looked good before, that was _nothing _compared to how he looked now. His hair fell loosely so that one lock brushed slightly over his forehead. He wore tailored charcoal pants which had evidently been made to fit and a crisp white shirt unbuttoned slightly and rolled at the sleeves to reveal his strong, muscular arms. He stopped in the doorway and leaned on the doorjamb in a relaxed manner, surveying her slowly, almost causing her to shiver under the intense scrutiny of his gaze. When he finally lifted his eyes to meet hers, he smirked slightly and raised an eyebrow. "Not bad."

Ginny narrowed her eyes slightly and crossed her arm in a defensive manner. "If I remember correctly Malfoy, we came here to discuss business, not so you could treat me like eye-candy. Now, if you would be so kind as to lead me into the restaurant so we could get this started?"

Malfoy nodded his head consentingly towards her. "As you wish madam," he said, waving his hand with a flourish towards the doors. "Welcome to Malfoy Manor."

…

Please review! I love reviews! And I love reviewers! And if you review, I get happy and write more! And the more I write, the more this is updated!

And thankyou thankyou thankyou to mnemosynesque, cgflower and twinsofthesky who reviewed the last chapter!


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